Thanks for the Birthday Wishes

Well folks, all the jokes and wishes and "wouldn't it be fun if!" didn't come true.

No baby on my birthday. No literal birth day for me. Maybe I'll be glad. Soon I'll have to share every part of my body and soul with this child. I didn't want to share my birthday too! Right?

I've been telling people for months that I'm 22. Now I'm finally not lying. But I started to trick even myself. I had to ask Mikey how old I was really turning. Am I 23? No, no. I'm 22, right?

 But I am getting anxious. I feel like the weekly doctor's appointments are (while probably important) just anticipation inducing sessions of "Well things are certainly getting close!" And close to a 38 week pregnant girl gets translated into: Maybe I'll have my baby...TOMORROW!

I'm trying to keep my head on. Straight and level, thank you. (I'll just keep telling myself, She's not coming until March. Oh wait, that's my sister . . .)

Meanwhile, I'm finding ways to keep busy. Like getting ahead in my class and waiting in long lines to buy tickets (and I don't even mind the lines! What else to I have to rush to? I think this is good for me).

But I digress.

I'm pretty sure that every Braxton Hicks contraction sends Mikey into yet another session of Anderson Labor Watch 2011. Can't wait for the real thing. My belly is starting to get in my way.